


FIC: "Love, at dinner" | Live Free Die Hard, John/Matt

by megyal



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: M/M, Meet the Family, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/smallfandomfest/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/smallfandomfest/"><strong>smallfandomfest</strong></a>, for the prompt <em>Matt's family finds out</em>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	FIC: "Love, at dinner" | Live Free Die Hard, John/Matt

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/smallfandomfest/profile)[**smallfandomfest**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/smallfandomfest/), for the prompt _Matt's family finds out_.

Anne Fryer, once known as Anne Farrell, poked at the small pile of mashed potatoes at one side of her plate, and shifted the pork-chop around. She glanced at her husband out of the corner of her eyes; Jacob caught her looking and twitched his bushy white eyebrows at her, then went back to eating heartily. _He's your son,_ that eyebrow twitch informed her. _You're supposed to deal with this, not me. And boy, I don't envy you that job at all._

Anne wrinkled her nose. Damn his expressive eyebrows. She peeked at the other people sitting at the dining-table. Jacob was seated at the head of the table, and his teenage daughter, Kara, was right across from Anne. Lauren, Jacob and Anne's youngest at twelve, sat beside Anne. Across from Lauren was Anna's son from her first marriage, Matt. He and Lauren were grinning at each other like two thieves; they were probably poking each other with their bare toes under the table. It really warmed Anne's heart to know that he got along so well with his half-sister; she had been divorced from his father at when Matt was Lauren's age, and for a few years Matt had been almost unreachable until his younger sister was born.

At the opposite end of the table, Matt's... _friend_ was eating with as much gusto as Jacob.

Anne caught Matt's eye, and the wide grin he had been bestowing in Lauren faded somewhat; like her, he had just been playing with his food, instead of actually eating it. Behind the mirth in his eyes, there was a slightly haunted expression. He was a lot like her, in so many ways: the same dark eyes and hair, the same shaped face. Anne swallowed and wondered if he had got _everything_ from her.

"Hey, McClane," Kara sang out and Matt flinched as if he had been goosed. "Could you pass the gravy, please?"

"Sure," McClane said quite easily. When he had first stepped inside the house, and Matt had introduced him as 'John', he had taken her hand in an oddly gentle grip, and told her that 'McClane's fine, ma'am.' Ma'am. He was older than her, and he had called her _ma'am._ Now, he took up the gravy bowl and its platter, handing it over to Matt so he could pass it on. The muscles in his biceps bunched admirably; in her younger years, or right after she had been divorced from Martin, she would have been attracted to the type of man McClane was. Honestly, she remembered him from that article in _Time_... when was it? 1989? 1990? Matt had been eight, then. _Eight_.

"Thanks, McClane!" Kara said with the exact amount of enthusiasm that would grate on every last one of Anne's nerves. She knew what was running through Kara's brain. Kara disliked Anne... well, to be quite fair, she had mellowed out a lot when her sister had been born, and she liked Matt well enough. She wasn't a bad girl, but anything that upset Anne delighted Kara, and this situation was pretty damned upsetting, if Anne was going to be completely honest.

She had been so happy to get Matt's call, that he was on some kind of road-trip with his friend and he'd be passing by the next day... and if his friend would manage to lift his heavy foot off the gas-pedal, they'd definitely stop by for dinner. Anne had tried not to sound too ecstatic over the phone; Matt had lived with Martin after the divorce, and she hadn't seen him as regularly as she hoped. She had been so very worried that fourth of July weekend when all the phones and the systems went crazy, and she hadn't been able to contact him for a week after. Matt told her that he had been doing some government work during that time, and he was still working for them; _that _was a surprise, but really very nice.

"A friend?" she had said coyly over the phone to Matt. "Would she happen to be _more_ than a friend, Matt?"

Matt's laugh had been a bit sharper than she had ever heard from him. As a matter of fact, his tone had gained a strangely gruff tinge, so unusual that she hadn't recognized his voice at first. It was different from the slight whine with which her perpetual little boy usually spoke.

"Well, yeah, definitely more than a friend. And not a girl, Mom," Matt had sighed. "My friend is a guy."

"A... guy?" Anne's own voice had seemed strangled to her ears. "A... _male_ guy?"

Matt laughed again, nasally. "A male guy. He's... older."

"How much older?" Anne said, even though most of her brain was still stuck at _a male guy_.

"Ummm." Matt breathed out heavily, and muttered as if he was doing some quick calculations. "Old enough to be my dad, I guess."

"Oh. Well, we'll see you!" Anne had injected as much cheer as she could manage into her voice; as soon as she hung up, she burst into tears. She hadn't known what in particular she was crying over, there was a plethora of reasons, but Matthew was _her son_ and she wanted the best for him and this didn't seem like the best. Even the the divorce had been a necessary evil; she and Martin tried their best at damage control, but what if that was the reason Matt was this way now? She had cried even harder at that thought, then called Martin and told him.

"What?" Martin had sounded very loud, as if he was standing right beside her, and not all the way in Florida. "A... what? You didn't hear right, Annie."

"He just told me!" Anne blew her nose into the square of tissue she had snagged from the bejewelled box on the side-table; Lauren had made it for her in art class. Anne still had that bill-holder thing that Matt had created for her in shop, a lopsided box which didn't hold much, but still proudly declared her BEST MOM EVER. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Martin? And he said the... the _man_ is as old as his dad. _You're_ his dad!"

"Jesus," Martin murmured.

"Did we do something wrong?" Anne asked tearfully.

"But he had that girlfriend, in high school." Martin obviously wasn't listening to her, which was one of the many reasons they were so happily ex. "Tina? Fina?"

"Gina," Anne told him, and managed not to snark that _he_ had spent more time with Matt, he should know the names of their son's girlfriends. "Gina Albertson. Fina isn't a name. Unless you're a water-bottle and it's your _last_ name--"

"Fina could be a name," Martin said, and then there was the sound of papers rustling from his end. Of course he was doing work, Anne thought with a resigned sort of bitterness. This was important and serious and involved their son, and he was doing work.

"Maybe we should disown him," Martin suggested and this pulled an amused hiccup out of Anne, even as she dabbed at her eyes. No matter how shrill they had gotten at each other behind the closed door of their bedroom, they really had the same sense of humour. Martin still had the knack of making her her laugh.

"Strike him off the will," Anne said and cleared her throat, clutching the soggy scrap of tissue to her chest. "He won't get one inch of my country estate."

"And none of the cars," Martin said, and there was that hint of low laughter in his voice. "Not even the Bentley. Anne--"

"It's just that... I don't even know," Anne said and Martin hummed.

"He's always done what he wanted," Martin reminded her. "It's not going to go away because you don't like it, Anne."

Still, Anne thought as she finally cut into her meat and forced herself to swallow a forkful of it, Matt was her boy, her only son, and this... this _man_...

"This tastes really awesome, Mom," Matt said, chewing slowly; he didn't seem to have much of an appetite right now.

"I helped," Lauren piped up and grinned at John. "I made the salad."

"And the juice," Jacob said, giving her an indulgent wink. Kara was probably over there rolling her eyes, but Anne couldn't spare a thought for her right now.

"That's great," McClane said, but Anne found that his unsettling regard was directed at _her_. "Got you some really nice kids here, Anne."

"Hmm," Anne answered. Her throat felt tight, so she took a sip of Lauren's infamous juice. A bit heavy on the sugar, as usual, but she still smiled at Lauren. Matt grinned at his little sister too, and... and it was going to be okay. She was going to make it through this dinner in one polite piece.

Of course, Kara had to open her mouth.

"But Matt is the best kid for you, right?"

"_Kara,_" Jacob warned and she pouted.

"What? It's true, anyway."

"Where were you both heading to?" Jacob asked in sheer desperation; Matt and McClane exchanged an unreadable glance.

"We're going to visit my son," John said in a mild tone that belied his hawk-like expression and all the stories Anne had ever heard about him. "I have two kids," he continued, voice softening even more. "Lucy and Jack."

Anne blinked as he focused on her again.

"I guess I have an idea of how you feel," he said. His hand, scarred and big as it rested beside his plate, shifted over so that the side of it was touching the side of her son's nearest hand; beside Matt's, which was pale and long-fingered, his looked capable of very dangerous things.

Anne swallowed, and then smiled. His expression didn't change, but there seemed to be a lightening at the corner of his eyes. Matt glanced at him and Anne carefully noted that while Matt had always been a nervous, jittery sort of person, he was now looking back at her with the same sort of self-assured calm.

Suddenly, she wondered what Matt had really been up to on that Fourth of July weekend.

"Do your kids know about... this?" Anne flapped a hand between them, feeling her face go hot. Beside her, Lauren frowned and asked, "Know about what?"

"My kids know," McClane said. "My son doesn't like it, but we're working on it."

"What are you guys talking about?" Lauren demanded, a frown marring the normally untroubled skin between her dark eyebrows.

"I'll tell you later, kiddo," Kara told her, and grinned. Anne hoped she wouldn't pile on too many unnecessary details.

"Jack's getting used to the idea," Matt said and rolled his eyes a little. "It's taking him a while."

"We're getting used to it too," Jacob muttered behind a fork piled high with lettuce, and appeared contrite when Anne slipped her foot out of her sandals, and pinched him on his ankle with her toes. After that, she found she was pretty hungry, and dove right in.

*

With a complete lack of shame, Anne peered out of the window beside the front door, watching Matt and McClane; they were standing beside Matt's car, talking. It was fairly late; Kara and Lauren had already been in bed for over an hour now (at least, Lauren was; Kara was probably on the phone), and the adults had retreated to the living room with brandy for Jacob, a cup of tea for herself, and coffee for Matt and... and John. Jacob had tried to drag some stories about Nakatomi Plaza and Dulles out of John, reminding Anne that while he was her son's... er, lover, he was also _that_ John McClane. John deftly angled the conversation away from himself, and told them some pretty unbelievable stuff about what Matt had done when the phone and computer networks had gone down. She had gazed at her son with confused pride, while Matt laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

They'd finally taken their leave a little after Matt's phone had rang and someone asked (in such loud and disgruntled tones that Anne could hear from where was sitting): "Where the hell are you two? What, the country's getting blown up again?"

She had guessed that this was the same Jack who was getting used his father's relationship with her son. The sharpness of his voice, the bite in it... it was the same manner in which John himself spoke, even though it had been tempered at the dinner table.

Now, as Jacob rustled his paper pointedly, Anne gazed out at them. They seemed to be arguing over something, but in that amused way lovers had sometimes. Matt's hands sketched unknowable scenes in the streetlight-illuminated air. John caught him by the wrists and leaned close, tilting his head. Anne turned her face away; she couldn't help herself a few moments later, looking again to see Matt punch John on the arm. His grin was impish, and he looked so very young that Anne's vision blurred for a few minutes. John slipped his fingers into the front pocket of Matt's jeans, hauling out the keys and ensconcing himself behind the wheel, starting the car as Matt got in beside him. The car backed out of the driveway, and the rear-lights glowed as they headed off.

"Everything okay, Anne?" Jacob's voice drifted quietly towards her and she nodded.

"He's going to be fine."

_fin_


End file.
